five

Nearly two weeks had passed since my visit to The Sawmill and the fire. I would use skating and school as my excuse for not going back, but that would be a lie. Really, I'm too afraid to keep writing. Working at Sawmill would only allow the fear to resurface.

Since I gave up on writing and on Sawmill, I've had a lot of time on my hands. Except I haven't done anything productive with the extra time. No, instead what I do is pace around the apartment and send myself into anxious fits. I need to get out of the house.

I decide to go Christmas shopping for my mom. Christmas is in a couple of weeks and I still haven't bought her anything. We don't have much money, but Mom always manages to make Christmas an event for me. I feel bad that I rarely put in the effort to do the same for her. I decide to take the bus into town and go to one of those big department stores.

 

I’m still mumbling to myself by the time I get to the street. I’m fumbling with my keys, trying to get them into the pocket of my purse when I hear as loud, sharp noise behind me.

“What the hel-” I think as I quickly jerk around.

Behind me is the blind man crossing the street shouting out what sounds like Linus’ speech in A Charlie Brown Christmas. In front of him is the orphanage school bus. The expression on the driver’s face is of pure terror. He knows the old man is in the street, but it look like he’s lost control of the bus when he drove over a large chunk of black ice in the road.

“Look out!” I screech as I’m running toward the old man. I have no choice, I’m already in the middle of street and my only option is to push the old man out of the path of the bus. I leap forward, and tackle him to the ground. I over estimated the man’s weight and leap a little too forcefully. I think I may have broken a couple of his ribs, maybe an arm.

Now people have started crowding around us. I see colors, but I haven’t regained my vision yet. I try to get up, but instead I black out. Again.